( haircuts and projections : a collective prayer to help deal with the end of the world )

Questioning the role of rituals in society, Une coupe de cheveux pour la fin du monde investigates the practical, spiritual, and esthetic nature of art. The barbershop idea generated from an invitation to FAAS 2012 (Foire d'art alternatif de Sudburry), where the parameters inspired me to give haircuts in my space. Sharing with the public about ''the end of the world'', a common thought expressed was that we are entering an era of greater community. Insisting that conversations and intentions have power to form the future, I ask each participant to sit five minutes and record positive thoughts into a lock of their hair that I've carefully selected. The artist becomes shaman, here in the form of a barber, channeling the great shift to help you better experience this cyclical end.

I chose to make interventions that examine collective memory and the ancestral imprint. Through archiving, appropriation and manipulation, there is a constant investigation into matter and its potential to hold memory. Can thought be manifested through prayer, through water, through material things? Collecting hundreds of hair sample, this latest project reminds me of Noha's Arc, where DNA holds genetic memory and somehow links us to collective consciousness.

For this participative installation, Maryse Arseneault is collecting strands of hair, gifts of leather, birch bark, wild flowers, and other samples of this world. By sitting with the artist, you will engage in a dialogue about your hopes and fears facing the future. Please take part in this collective prayer for a sustainable society.

The title reads: Sanguine, Burnt Umber. A few thousand screen-printed stars reinterpret cabinet cards of indigenous people from the turn of the 19th century. This recent endeavour reflects on hidden Mi'kmaq bloodlines in my Acadian ancestry, unravelling what really lies In the Shadow of Evangeline (Galerie d'art Louise-et-Ruben-Cohen, 2011). First completed for a group show and residency, the work has an on-going objective of building relationships between First Nation communities and all other cultural bodies across Canada. The final phase of this project will be to send these prints as individual peace offerings.

Ethnological portraits by early photographers, such as Edward Sheriff Curtis and C. S. Fly, are pulled from the Internet, reprocessed and duplicated eight times. Up to 960 4''x6'' photographs mounted on1/8'' Russian Birch, are spread on the floor like tiles, forming an eight-pointed star. Appropriation and colonisation are evoked through form and meaning. The grid-like installation invades the gallery space and entrance, referencing land occupation and violation. The viewer is pointedly aware of how little space is left in the room, with only diffuse lights focused on the raked display. Compelled to follow narrow paths between the points, one must kneel for closer contemplation.

Intricate aureoles cover men and women's faces, recalling the human soul and the superstition that it accesses the body vessel through one’s eyes. Veiling of the eyes is meant here as a prayer, an attempt to heal some ancestral scars, a way to nurture these beautiful people and ultimately give them a proper burial. The masking of the head can be interpreted, however, as another defacing of the subject's identity, making it significantly sensitive for some viewers. The double meaning is part of my intention: we ARE fostering both hidden bloodlines and unspoken hardships. We ARE denying aboriginal rights, and depriving all humans of sacred knowledge for a sustainable future!

The eight-pointed star is found on traditional blankets and crafts in both Mi'kmaq and Acadian homes. Does this come from their long lost and taboo friendship? My general practice examines collective memory and the ancestral imprint. Through archiving, appropriation and intervention, there is a constant investigation into matter and its potential to hold memory. Can thought be manifested through prayer, through water, through objects? When memory conforms to material, does recollection become counterfeit? Photography can immortalize a moment, forever cast in the silver-print. Can the silver also hold one's soul?